


Sans Seraph

by Mei_MyselfandI



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cutting, Depression, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sad, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14079990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mei_MyselfandI/pseuds/Mei_MyselfandI
Summary: Ever since he was a kid, the only way he ever felt better was when there was a blade pressed against his wrist and blood dripping on the floor.





	Sans Seraph

**Author's Note:**

> //Trigger Warning Please Check The TAGs//
> 
> Happy stuff is fun to write but dark themes/angst will forever be my home. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

He didn’t know how he got here. He didn’t even know where he was. After everything that happened, his back breaking, learning to walk to run again, learning Zoom identity, giving up his speed, getting it back, his father dying, saving the multiverse— _ the race of his life _ . 

 

After everything, he needed a break, a way to stop feeling so empty, and tired, and numb. He picked up the tin box from his room and ran into what was hopefully abandoned building. 

 

Barry slumped against the grey wall, sliding down, his hands shaking as he ripped open the box, searching, searching,  _ there _ . He found it. 

 

It was brand new, sharp and glinting in the moonlight from what was a suppose-to-be-window. 

 

He brought it down to his wrist before he realized, he had all the time in the world. A simple slash across his wrist would do anything, they’d heal in a minute. So, he brought the razor to the top of his forearm, and down to his wrist he cut one long line and one more time to his other arm. And, again. And again, and again and—the razor dropped from his arm and clattered to his side. His head fell back against the concrete wall, eye shut. What a hero he was. He couldn’t save his mom. He couldn’t save Eddie, or Ronnie, or central city from the singularity. He couldn’t save his dad. What kind of hero was he? 

 

But, that didn’t matter now, did it? 

 

Nothing did. 

 

He felt hazy, tired, a good tired, like a sleep-forever-tired. His eyes felt heavy he could barely open them, but it’s not like he wanted to anyway. He didn’t mean to cut that deep, but it wouldn’t be the first time he passed out from his own self-inflicted wounds. Barry figured everybody would be fine without him for a day, or two, or however long it took for him to move away from his grotesque pity party. Thank god, he didn’t tell anybody where he was going, nobody could find him— 

 

Footsteps? 

 

Footsteps. 

 

Apparently, the building was not was abandoned as Barry thought. Hopefully, it wasn’t someone competent enough to call an ambulance. Maybe it was a drunk who wandered in on accident or maybe someone too high to tell the difference between this building and club across the street. 

 

He heard the steps get closer, and closer, and closer, and oh no. 

 

“The hell?” The someone muttered underneath their breath and then they got closer and finally to fervently whisper they said, “ _Barry_?” 

 

Just his luck. 

 

He passes out. 

 

-

-

-

 

Barry blinked his eyes open and winced. The blinding light from the windows covered the whole room, it far past morning, early in the afternoon maybe. He hopped Iris and Joe weren’t worried. 

 

He stared at the ceiling for a minute trying to get his bearings, find enough pieces of himself to actually get out the bed and function for the rest of the day. He supposed Leonard Snart’s safe house/apartment was better than Star Labs or the hospital. 

 

Barry sat up and pushed the blanket off him swinging his legs over the bed he noticed he wasn’t in the same clothes as last night and there were bandages over his wrists. He sighed to himself, not looking forward to the impending conversation he was going to have with Leonard. 

 

Leonard who was supposed to be time traveling and fighting bad guys across time and space. 

 

He opened the door to the room and walked out, as slowly as possible. Len not missing the sound of the door hinges creaking, turned from the couch to look at him. Barry could only meet his gaze for only a moment before he found himself looking at the floor. 

 

“Hello, Barry.” Len kept staring at him, Barry couldn’t see it, but he could sure as hell feel it. “There food in the kitchen.” So, Barry made his way to the kitchen, doing anything to postpone the conversation, he picks up the plate of pancakes— _ bless Len— _ made his way to the couch. 

 

There was a tense silence in the air while Barry ate, the only noise was his fork hitting the plate or when Len turned the pages of the newspaper, the paper crinkled under the tension of his hands.  

 

He put the plate down the coffee table, it was now or never. 

 

Leonard started,“Barry—” 

 

“I’m fine,” He finished quickly. 

 

Len glared at him and shifted turning towards him, then moving closer to him grabbing his hands, his wrists and holding them gently. “I found you in a pool of your blood. Barry, I don’t do scared, okay, I never feel scared of anything or of anyone, anymore. But, when I saw you, you have to understand—I was fucking terrified, I thought-god-I thought you were dead.”  

 

Barry could barely look at him, his face warm, ashamed, choking on his voice he managed to squeeze a pitiful, “I’m sorry.” 

 

Leonard’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why would you, why you try to—” 

 

And, Barry quickly realized what Len thought he was trying to do, that was never, never the goal. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Len, I know my limits, I was, I—I,” He paused and tried to figure the best way to explain his  _ addiction _ , “I like hurting myself, cutting. I know it’s unhealthy, but I can’t stop and it’s the only way, the only thing that makes this-this emptiness in my chest go away, it makes feel alive and I’m so sorry you had to see that I—” He didn’t mean to start crying, but after everything, after everything that's happened, he couldn’t help it.

 

“Scarlet, hey, it’s okay,” He heard Leonard sigh, quiet and sad. His hands moved up from his wrists to his face to try and wipe away his never-ending stream of tears.    
Then down and across his back and Len pulled him forward until Barry was lying across his chest face pressed in the soft cotton of the black turtleneck. 

 

When his sobs finally died down to quiet sniffling, Len shifted so Barry was between him and the couch, laying on his side, his forehead still against Len’s chest. “When did,” Leonard paused, “When did this start?” 

 

“It’s,” Barry tried to keep his voice from cracking, “It’s a long story.” He felt a soft hand tangle in his hair, combing through it, gentle, so unlike the blade that he enjoyed to press against his skin. 

 

“We have time, Barry, you can take all the time you need.” How was Len so good to him? So ready with patience and gentleness, that Barry didn’t even have for  _ himself _ . If anyone deserves answers, it would be Len. 

 

So he opened his mouth and began.

 

When indeed?

 

-

-

-

 

It started after his mother died, as everything seemed too. 

 

He had spent some time at the orphanage before Joe was able to take him. He met other kids like him, kids that were hurting and angry, bitter that world had turned their back on them, and took away what little they had. 

 

None of them ridiculed Barry for thinking his dad was innocent, none of them tried to tell he was crazy, they understood—believed him—and so he believed in them in return. They all had this secret air of trust, all of them understood one another, even if the adults never could. 

 

But, it was the one day, where he woke screaming and cold, shaking, lightning flashing in the backs of his eyelids, the man yellow, his mother screaming, his dad yelling. 

 

One of the older boys woke him up not gently, but at least he didn’t get pushed off the bed, again. Then he pushed something small and sharp into Barry’s open palm. 

 

A razor? 

 

The boy—Wills—told him he used to have them too, nightmares, till used started this trick to keep them away. 

 

“It’s in your blood, Allen. You think of whatever scares you the most, whatever you’re dreaming about now, and then you cut, wherever you want, and it all goes away all the pain,” Wills dropped his voice a fraction lower, “but don’t let anyone see you okay?” 

 

And, god was he right. 

 

But, holy hell did it hurt. 

 

Barry did exactly as Wills told him, he thought of his father in jail, his mother in her grave and the man in yellow out in the world free. He let the metal press against his small wrist and  _ swiped _ . 

 

The razor fell out of his lax hand and he had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from screaming, but after the crescendo of pain receded, he was left with an overcompressing feeling of calming peace, like everything could be fine. 

 

Barry didn’t have nightmares that night. 

 

...

 

Cutting was easier to hide when he was in the orphanage because, well, no was looking or really cared in the first place. 

 

But, when Barry finally was adopted by Joe, he realized how hard it was going to be. So, he tried to stop. He stopped buying razors, an alcohol to clean up his mess, and gauze for his wrists, but that only worked for so long. 

 

Living with the Wests was the best thing that happened to him since his mother’s death, but that did not make anything easier. 

 

Especially when Joe refused to listen to anything he said, refused to let him see his father. His  _ dad _ . Barry couldn’t forgive him for that, he was so angry, so mad, and scared, and he found himself, rummaging through the kitchen in the middle of the night, reaching for anything that resembled a razor. 

 

He found a small knife, some supposed to be hidden alcohol and paper towels. 

 

It’d have to do. 

 

Then he ran up to his room and let himself bleed. 

 

The next morning Barry didn’t say a thing about his father or the man in yellow and Joe padded him on the back and told him, “You look a lot better, Barr, whatever you’re doing keep doing it.” 

 

Barry didn’t hold back after that. 

 

...

 

Then Tony Woodward showed up and made Barry’s life a never-ending living hell. 

 

Barry started running out places to cut. 

 

...

 

Then high school rolled around and it was the worst four years of his life. 

 

Becky Cooper kissed him then she turned around and called him ‘desperate’ and ‘needy’ behind his back, then broke up with him in front of half their grade. 

 

Then, somewhere in the middle of junior year, Tony Woodward backed him to a corner of the bathroom—where Barry was absolute, positively sure he was going to get his ass kicked—and kissed him. Granted, their relationship was not the most healthiest one and it may or may not have ended up with him in the hospital.

 

But like he said, high school was a  _ bitch _ , he only wore long sleeves.

 

...

 

College, on the other hand, was great, amazing, absolutely fantastic. 

 

It was in fact, the best four years of Barry’s life. 

 

He even started wearing t-shirts. 

 

...

 

Becoming the Flash was a blessing, but not in the way many people would think. Superpowers were awesome, saving people--was amazing, becoming a full-time hero like in the comic books was his nerd dream come true, but it had to be the healing ability, that he was most grateful for. 

 

The first time he cut himself with his powers, it started healing, right before his eyes, and by the time he blinked, there was no blood on his sheets and no scar on his wrist. And, while this was great, he felt he had to step up his game somehow, normal cutting didn’t give him the same rush, the same feeling anymore. 

 

So Barry tried to push himself, see how far he could go, see how much time it took to heal one cut, then ten, then a hundred, and so far. 

 

_ God, he never felt more alive.  _

 

...

 

Harrison Wells killed his mom. The reverse-flash, his mentor, his teacher, his father-figure. Someone he trusted, he let Wells get in so deep, that he speedster didn’t even have to stick a vibrating hand in his chest to have ripped out his heart. 

 

Barry would do it for him. 

 

It turns out he could lose a lot of blood before he passes out. 

 

...

 

Eddie. 

 

Ronnie. 

 

The singularity, godspeed  _ Flash _ . 

 

By the end of it, Central City was in ruins, Eddie was dead, Ronnie was dead, and it was all his fault. 

 

He was left alone in a quiet lab with machines as his company. It was better this way, he destroyed everything he touched. 

 

Including himself. 

 

...

 

Jay seemed like a good guy, he was a former speedster, maybe a new teacher Barry could count on. He was good for Caitlin too.

 

Turns out this world in this world, you can’t trust anybody. 

 

Jay is Zoom and Zoom is Jay. 

 

At this point he doesn’t even care if someone sees, at the very least they’ll be able to help him clean up all the blood.  

 

...

 

His dad is dead. 

 

But, so is Zoom.

 

-

-

-

 

After Barry finished they were both quiet. Len sorting and categorizing through the immense amount of information Barry had just revealed. And, Barry waited for Len to ask the questions he knew he had. “Does anyone else know?” 

 

Barry shook his head, his voice muffled by the cotton of Leonard’s shirt, “No.” 

 

“No, no one knows, okay,” He repeated, “Okay, Do you have someone, a professional someone to talk to about this?” 

 

“No..” Barry trailed off, why would he need a psychiatrist, he wasn’t crazy, he knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t hurting anyone, “Why would I need help?”

 

“Scarlet you have to know that isn’t good for you.” Len huffed then continued, “I know I’m not one to talk about feelings, but, Barry even I went to get help after what, my father did to me and Lisa. It sounds like you never got to talk about anything with anyone since your mother died and since then it just kept adding up. That’s almost fifteen years of grief Barry and you haven’t got to mourn.” 

 

Barry is quiet, considering until he shakes his head. “I’m fine, Len.” 

 

Len didn’t say anything back just hugged him tighter. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it??
> 
> Comments and Kudos are everything.


End file.
